The Midnight Mystery at Marsh House
by tulip meadow
Summary: Lord Edgware Dies AU. Jane Wilkinson never asks Poirot to get rid of her husband. Poirot and Hastings never watch the performance of Carlotta Adams. Geraldine Marsh is kidnapped shortly after her father's death. How will Poirot solve the case when it turns out this way?
1. Lord Edgware's Dead

**Chapter 1. Lord Edgware's Dead**

I looked at the morning paper with interest. It had just arrived, and the first headline I saw was:

LORD EDGWARE'S MURDER

DID A FILM STAR STAB HER SPOUSE?

"Poirot, you may find it definitely intriguing," I said to my Belgian friend, who was drinking coffee and trying to find something to occupy his little gray cells.

"What?" he asked as he turned to take a look at the news. He read the article and shrugged:

"Well, what do we have here? Jane Wilkinson, a film star used to getting what she wanted, fell out of love with her husband, Lord Edgware, and wanted to marry the Duke of Merton. Lord Edgware wouldn't give her a divorce. She visited him yesterday, was observed by several servants, and in the morning His Lordship is found stabbed. It is probably quite clear."

"But look here!" I pointed to the last paragraph of the article. Poirot chuckled:

"Ah, just the thing for your romantic imagination, Hastings._ However, the maidservant also found a lock of dark hair by the body's side. The lock was identified (with fair certainty) as the hair of Miss Geraldine Marsh, Lord Edgware's daughter, who is said to have had a lot of quarrels with her father. Miss Marsh, though, claims to have been at the opera theatre at the time of the murder. The police are investigating the case… _Eh bien, you suppose the murderess stabs her father in a quarrel and calmly leaves to the theatre, helpfully dropping a clue – a lock of hair no less! – near the body for the police to find?"

I hesitated:

"Poirot, it looks very believable…"

"For a third-class novel!"

"Well, how do you explain the lock?"

Before Poirot could say a word, his servant George entered.

"Sorry to bother you, monsieurs, but there's a lady who wishes to see you urgently, Monsieur Poirot. The famous actress, Jane Wilson – no, Wilkinson."

"Yes, I shall see her," Poirot nodded.

"There it is!" I exclaimed as George left. "I knew at a glimpse that the case would be interesting."

"Don't think so just because the lady comes for _my_ advice."

As he spoke, George came again. He escorted Jane Wilkinson into the room

Jane Wilkinson, Lady Edgware, looked very much like she did in films. She was not a young beautiful maiden – no, she was well over forty, but her face still looked relatively lively and youthful. A few wrinkles traced it, but her eyes glittered with energy. Her golden blond hair flowed down her shoulders. The black mourning dress didn't at all match the air of content and cheerfulness that surrounded Lady Edgware.

"Monsieur Poirot?" she greeted my friend. "I think you've heard of me."

"Yes, madame. We're pleased to meet you in person."

The usual polite words were exchanged, and Jane Wilkinson sat at the table. Her eyes fell on my paper.

"Oh, so you know about my husband's murder."

"We were discussing it the moment you arrived, madame. I offer you my condolences."

"No, please," Jane cringed. "My husband was awful – simply awful. We've been separated for years. I was on the verge of catching a taxi, going to Marsh House and stabbing him myself, but then, thankfully, he agreed for the divorce. It was actually going to be finished in the next two months."

"So Lord Edgware did give you a divorce?" Poirot raised his brow.

"He did."

"Then what is your problem? You had no motive to kill him."

"This is what I was trying to tell the police an hour ago, but they wouldn't listen." Jane whimpered. "Not only did I have no motive, but I had no opportunity. I was at dinner last night at Sir Corner's. They still suspect me, though."

"Why?" Poirot inquired. "They are not so foolish."

Jane gave us a bitter sarcastic smile.

"I was called away during the dinner. For half an hour. They think it was enough for me to stab my husband.

"Also, that dreadful lock of Geraldine's! The wicked stepmother commits a crime and incriminates the poor stepdaughter. I happened to visit Marsh House when Geraldine was having her last haircut (her hair is always cut by Miss Carroll, our secretary who's very fond of her). It was a week ago."

"The lock might mean nothing, but why were you called away from Sir Corner's?"

"Alfred Grithe, the butler from Marsh House, called on the phone and told me that the pearl necklace I lost a week ago was found there. The necklace is worth thousands, so naturally I went to retrieve it. I caught a taxi, because I was in a great hurry – I did not want to leave the party for long. But when the taxi drove past Piccadilly Hotel, I suddenly remembered I left my necklace there, in the room of my friend Zelma Van Dusen. I visit her regularly, you see. I stopped, went to her, we discovered the necklace, I phoned Marsh House and told Grithe there had been a mistake. Then I went back to Sir Corner's. I was lucky with the necklace, you know. Zelma was leaving to the USA just that night, and leave she did."

"Who can prove your alibi, madame?"

"This half an hour, you mean? Oh, lots of people. Alfred Grithe. Sir Corner's butler who answered the phone. The receptionist and the guests at Piccadilly Hotel. Lots of people."

"Fine," Poirot murmured. He seemed to be in deep thoughts.

"Could you help me to prove my alibi, Monsieur Poirot?" Jane pleaded. "You're the greatest detective alive, as I've heard. You might find the actual murderer."

Poirot's eyes lit up with pride.

"Yes, madame. I think I'll do it."

Jane Wilkinson clapped.

"I think that we should go to the scene of the crime now, while it's still, let's say, fresh. We'll question the servants and Miss Marsh, and later – we'll see."

Jane Wilkinson smiled:

"I hope you'll soon prove I'm not guilty in the least."


	2. The Butler's Evidence

**Chapter 2. The Butler's Evidence**

As we arrived at Marsh House, we encountered our old acquaintance Inspector Japp. He came there, like ourselves, to question the house's inhabitants and examine the scene of the crime.

We were let in by a handsome golden-haired man in his late twenties or early thirties. He turned out to be the butler, Alfred Grithe.

I didn't like him. He looked very cautious, as though he had some hidden secret, and at the same time he was too openly sarcastic and very straight. I thought he was the ideal type of a murderer. I later planned to tell Poirot my suspicions.

The body of George Oliver Marsh, 14th Lord Edgware, was taken away from his library, but the whole scene was untouched since the discovery. The butler and the maid who actually found the body showed us everything. The maid, though, was nearly in hysterics, so she was soon sent away after a brief questioning. Under the guidance of Mr. Grithe we continued to explore the library, the desk in particular.

"This is the lock of hair," Alfred Grithe pointed to a dark tress lying on the desk. "They made a lot of fuss about it."

"Is it Miss Marsh's hair?" Japp asked.

"Yes, I'm certain."

"Could she have committed the crime?"

The butler grimaced with disgust.

"Sadly, no."

"Don't you like the lady?"

"Like her? I can't stand her. She has an awful temper, and she is terribly spoiled. By Miss Carroll. Miss Carroll adores her as if she was her daughter!"

"But Miss Marsh couldn't have murdered Lord Edgware?" I asked, a bit confused.

"Oh no. She couldn't. First, she was at the opera yesterday night. Second, she's not able to do it: she's afraid of the sight of a pair of scissors, let alone a kitchen knife! Third, she's as weak as a baby."

The butler's face twisted again. Suddenly, we heard footsteps approaching, and a pale dark-haired girl, not stunning like Jane Wilkinson yet beautiful in her own way, appeared in the hall, supported by an elderly strict-looking woman in a pince-nez.

"The police?" the girl asked in a trembling voice. "Are these the police?"

"Yes, dear, but they won't question you now," the woman (apparently that Miss Carroll) spoke softly.

The butler watched them both carefully as they walked up the stairway and disappeared.

"That dreadful girl!" he declared again fiercely. "Too frightened to be questioned! Even her stepmother is much more calm!"

"Now, Mr. Grithe," Japp interrupted the butler's tirade. "Would you tell us what happened yesterday evening?"

"What happened? Nothing but Her Ladyship's arrival. She came here, despite she called us earlier and told me that the pearl necklace was found. She said she wished to speak to her husband. I announced her arrival and stood in the hall until she returned from His Lordship's library."

"How long did she remain in the library?"

"Not more than five minutes. She came out flushed and angry, and told me that there had been a quarrel. Then she left."

Japp took notes. Poirot only listened with great attention.

"Did anyone else come inside the library?" Japp inquired.

"No. I strolled through the hall all the time. I am certain, sir."

"Were Mr. Ronald Marsh – the new Lord Edgware, better to say – and Miss Marsh at the opera?"

"Oh, s-sure. Till late at night."

Poirot even jumped at hearing the occasional stutter. He gave Mr. Grithe a long sharp look.

"You are _sure_?"

The butler turned away. He fidgeted nervously. For the first time, he looked uneasy.

"Well…"

"Mr. Grithe, you'd better tell the truth," Japp said.

"Well, yes, I mean, no. Ronald Marsh came here in a taxi for a brief moment."

"Why didn't you tell it earlier?"

"He," the butler chuckled," he was… a little… a bit… to put it straight, he was completely drunk. You know, sir, his face was red and he walked with great difficulty. I… He… He doesn't know I saw him. I was embarrassed to see my lord's nephew in such a state. That's why I kept it as a secret. He walked around, entered the back door, came out with a pearl necklace in his hand, and then went away in a taxi. The driver waited for him."

"Do you have any evidence that he was drunk?" Poirot asked.

"Why, sir, I've said it, he swayed like a tree on every step, and his face was all red."

Poirot mumbled something to himself.

"Was Ronald Marsh alone?" Japp wanted to know.

"Yes, that is beyond all doubt."

"Could he have committed a murder?"

"V-v-very improbable, sir," the butler stuttered. "He wasn't on good terms with my lord… but yet… I don't know."

"And you yourself actually could have killed Lord Edgware." Poirot said. Grithe laughed upon hearing this.

"I knew you'd say this, sir. I'm glad I'm finally an important person – a Suspect! I have a motive – I hated Lord Edgware, to be honest, he was the angriest man ever born! I have the ability to kill him. But unluckily for us, I also have an alibi, and you'll have to believe me. The parlor-maids, Kitty and Leslie, Victor, the manservant of His Lordship, and Miss Carroll will all separately swear they saw me walking or sitting in the hall since Her Ladyship's departure," Grithe was all confidence. Japp frowned:

"Could you tell us about something that happened earlier – the phone call you placed to Sir Corner's?"

"Oh, yes, sir. His Lordship was in his study then. I heard him grunting 'That dreaded necklace!' He called me and said: 'I found Jane's pearl necklace. She's at Montague Corner's, I believe. Ring up and tell her. She makes such a fuss of these white stones!' So I called Corner Hall and informed Her Ladyship of the recovery of her jewels. She said she'd go and retrieve them at once. Later she called and said that it had been a mistake, her necklace was found elsewhere. That it all, sir."

We questioned the servants mentioned by Grithe. They all, save for Miss Carroll, confirmed his evidence. Miss Carroll was taking care of ill-nerved Geraldine, so her questioning had to be delayed, as the questioning of Geraldine Marsh herself.

Poirot and I left Marsh House to have lunch, while Japp and three other policemen continued searching for clues.

"Well, _mon ami_, did you notice anything interesting, besides this important dark lock?" Poirot asked.

"Yes indeed," I said. "I think the butler's holding his tongue about something."

"Ah! So you noticed it too! What else?"

"Nothing."

"Didn't it occur to you that Grithe seems to hate everybody in the house?"

"Of course. He could have been the murderer."

"No, it's not this conclusion that came to me. I mean, you're right, he could have been the murderer, although right now he has a good, solid alibi. But think of it! He hates everyone, doesn't he?"

Poirot seemed to go too deep into psychology again. He stopped and closed his eyes thoughtfully. Suddenly, he opened them again:

"Didn't you notice the peculiarity of the pearl necklace?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lord Edgware found a pearl necklace. Lady Edgware was called away due to the finding of a pearl necklace. Zelma Van Dusen, whoever she is, found a pearl necklace in her hotel room. Ronald Marsh was observed by the butler leaving the house with a pearl necklace in his hand. Too many pearl necklaces to call it a coincidence!"

"One of the is forged," I suggested.

"I don't know about _forgery _– we haven't seen either of these jewels yet. But at least one of them is not the necklace Jane Wilkinson lost."

"At least one?"

"_Precisement_. The easiest solution of – let's call it the Pearl Necklace minor case – is as follows. The murderer learns about Lady Edgware's incredibly expensive necklace forges a necklace identical to it, and then leaves it in Marsh House for everyone to find. It is found, and Lady Edgware is called away from Sir Corner's for half an hour! Her alibi is very much weakened. The murderer steals the imitation of the pearls so that there would be no proof of its existence. Therefore…"

"The murderer is Ronald Marsh, who was seen by the butler!" I exclaimed. "But he was drunk – weak…"

"A drunkard's way of walking and a red face can be results of a good and very easy disguise. He adopted them to eliminate himself completely. Why, it's natural! A young man drinks too much at the opera, gets sick and walks away. Everyone's watching the performance, so one is able to recollect the exact amount of time that passed before his return."

"Poirot, how clever!" I exclaimed. "You solved the case right after…"

"No, I did not solve it. This story is inadequate."

"What? Why?"

"First, we haven't even questioned Mr. or Miss Marsh. Second, there is one thing you have forgotten. Lady Edgware _found_ the _original _necklace at the hotel of her friend and _came back _to Sir Corner's party. And she said there are many people to confirm it – though we have to question them yet.

"Can't you see? It is once more too much of a coincidence! The necklace is unexpectedly found, and Lady Edgware has no more reasons for visiting the house of her husband. Her alibi is restored. What happens next?"

"The murderer impersonates her or sends his accomplice as an impostor," I guessed.

"So he planned it as an alternative, in case the plan with necklace failed?"

"Why not?"

"He had a much easier way to incriminate the lady. He could have called Corner Hall himself, pretended to be Alfred Grithe, and informed Lady Edgware of the necklace. Then he sends an impostor – himself or an accomplice – to kill Lord Edgware. _Voila_! It would have spared him a lot of trouble. He wouldn't have needed to forge and hide the imitation and later to steal it. Lady Edgware's story of the phone call would have been considered rather improbable. She would have been found undoubtedly guilty."

"But now we can't accuse only her. Remember Ronald Marsh's visit and Geraldine's lock."

"Yes, these things are puzzling… But the most important thing is the pearl necklace, since it played a major role in Jane Wilkinson's alibi and in Alfred Grithe's evidence. We must go and search for it."


	3. The Midnight Visitors Of Marsh House

**Chapter 3. The Midnight Visitors of Marsh House**

When we got back to Marsh House, Japp was anxious to show us the newest clues found.

"We found the pearls," he grimly announced.

"What's so sad about it?" I asked.

"There are two identical necklaces matching Jane Wilkinson's description of her own. One is in Lord Edgware's study. Another was lying not far from the back door."

"Can we see them?" Poirot asked. Japp gave his permission, and one of the policemen went for the pearls. Meanwhile, I was trying to get over the shock. Three pearl necklaces mixed up in the case. Could it all be designed only to incriminate Lady Edgware?

The policeman brought two beautiful, seemingly identical necklaces. Poirot examined each of them, even tried them between his teeth. He put them down finally and said:

"Both are forgeries. But mind that! they are forged differently. They were made in two entirely different ways."

"What?" Japp raised his eyebrow.

"This imitation," Poirot took one of the necklaces, "is an expensive one. Made carefully and cleverly. The other is simpler and easier to differ from the original. Which is which? I mean, which was found where?"

"The one on the left was in the backyard," Japp answered readily.

"Ah, the simple imitation. Actually, you know, it is too simple. I believe it is _incomplete_. Like a draft of some kind."

"So Ronald Marsh was seen walking out with this thing," Japp concluded. "He was drunk, he wasn't physically able to examine the pearls. This is why he stole the worse imitation, wherever he found it. But why?"

"Japp, don't hurry with your conclusions," Poirot said. "Ronald Marsh could have been aware that this thing is a forgery."

"Maybe," Japp reluctantly admitted. "To find out, we need to have a talk with him. Mr. Grithe!"

"Yes, sir?" the butler immediately came to us from the other end of the hall.

"Where is Ronald Marsh now?"

"He came home from I don't-know-where 'to comfort cousin Geraldine', as he said," Alfred Grithe answered with a sardonic smile. "In Ronald Marsh's language it most probably means 'to have a glass or two of the late Uncle's cognac'. Anyway, sir, he, Miss Marsh, and Miss Carroll are in the sitting-room upstairs."

He showed us the way to the sitting-room.

There, the three mentioned inhabitants of Marsh House were settled. Geraldine Marsh, much calmer but still pale and nervous, was sitting on an ottoman, with Miss Carroll by her side, looking protectively at her. Ronald Julian Marsh, 15th Lord Edgware a young brown-haired man with a reddened face stood by their side, drinking cognac.

"Detective Inspector Japp, Monsieur Poirot and Captain Hastings; Your Lordship Miss Marsh," Grithe announced, leading us inside. He was all good manners and gentleness now, though he did shoot an irritated glance at Ronald Marsh, but the young lord, absorbed in his cognac, didn't notice it.

The butler left, and Japp started the inquiry:

"Your Lordship, can you spare a moment and answer a few questions?"

"Of course I can," Ronald said with drunken gaiety. "Thanks to dear Aunt Jane, I am My Lordship now. I have plenty of moments to spare."

"Now, Ronald," Geraldine called from her seat. "Why don't you let Miss Carroll take your bottle while you're talking with the detectives?"

"Geraldine, don't be a fool!" Ronald exclaimed. "I am talking with my mouth, not my hands. I am perfectly able to hold my bottle."

Geraldine gave us an apologizing look.

Japp continued:

"Were you at the opera yesterday?"

"Right, I was exactly there," Ronald yawned. "Boring music, boring singing, boring Rachel…"

"Lady Rachel, a friend of mine," Geraldine explained in a whisper.

"But all this bore gives me an alibi," her cousin finished triumphantly. "Here's to the opera and to Auntie Jane!" he sipped another glass of cognac.

"When did you return?"

"Two a. m. I heard the clock," Ronald said.

"And you didn't visit Marsh House after leaving to the theatre and before two a. m.," Poirot said.

"Who said I did?" Ronald was astonished. "When Uncle was done in, I was sitting in the theatre or waltzing with that dull Rachel."

"Alfred Grithe, your butler, says otherwise," Poirot explained. "He saw you, Your Lordship, coming here in a taxi, yesterday night."

"Damn this Grithe," Ronald exclaimed. "It's a lie!"

"Now, Ronald," Geraldine softly said again. "It's no use denying it if we're found out. Yes, Monsieur Poirot, we both came here at half past midnight. Ronald felt such a bad headache that we thought it better to go and get his tablets. We came by taxi, I went into the house through a back door and retrieved the tablets without anyone knowing. I was…" she blushed, "…embarrassed to… to tell anyone… that Ronald… is… was… had…"

Too much to drink, I (and certainly everyone else) finished her phrase mentally.

"We see," Poirot said, "So you, Miss Marsh, went into the house, and you, Your Lordship? Stayed outside?"

"Yeah," Ronald said, once more at ease. "I stayed outside. Then Geraldine returned, and before the taxi drove us away I spotted another figure walking through the back door of Marsh House."

"Ronald!" Geraldine cried. "Lies will not do you good."

"Geraldine didn't look back," Ronald explained. "I did. It was a human figure. A man's one."

"Did you recognize the man?" Japp asked. Japp looked uninterested in Ronald's explanations. I'm sure he thought everything was a falsehood.

"I can't say I did. But I can't deny he looked very, very much like Aunt Jane's former lover, Brian Martin."

"Brian Martin, the famous actor?" I asked, incredulously.

"That lad. Of course, I doubt it was him. The man seemed to have a key to our house."

"Thank you, Your Lordship, Miss Marsh," Japp said. "Miss Carroll, can you confirm some facts?"

Miss Carroll agreed. After Japp's inquiries she said that yes, Alfred Grithe was in the hall all the time. No, she couldn't say she saw Ronald or Geraldine. She didn't look out of the window she was here, in the sitting-room, waiting for Geraldine's return. No, she herself had no particular reason for killing Lord Edgware. He was not a perfect master, but not the worst one. And the secretary's salary was very high.

Then Ronald Marsh left, and Poirot asked Geraldine and Miss Carroll about the lock of hair. Geraldine faintly smiled:

"I can't say I saw anyone picking my hair up after my haircut. But, surely, anyone, including myself, could have done it."

That's all we could get from them, so we left too. Japp wanted to question Brian Martin just for safety. Poirot decided to accompany him. Fortunately, the superstar was in London, finishing his new movie.


	4. Death Of The Parodist

**Chapter 4. Death of the Parodist**

Brian Martin was extremely gloomy and annoyed when we came to his London house. He was a striking contrast to his on-screen self: angry, frowning, with unkempt hair, and dressed in a relatively simple business suit.

"Everything's dreadful!" he complained to us. "Jane's almost arrested, so there is a risk my new movie will have to do without her. My director constantly argues with me about the filming of the most important scene. Carlotta killed herself, and Jenny locked herself up in her house and refuses to speak to anyone."

The only thing we fully understood was the one concerning Jane Wilkinson.

"Who are Carlotta and Jenny, Mr. Martin?" Poirot asked.

"Jenny Driver is a designer, a _friend_ of mine," the actor said with some unnecessary firmness. "Carlotta Adams was her best friend – a talented parodist. Just the day before yesterday she gave a splendid performance, which included parodies of about two dozen celebrities, including Jane."

"Including Jane?" Japp interrupted. "Jane Wilkinson?"

"Yes. It was great. She looked like Jane, and with a golden wig she seemed her identical twin."

"Interesting," Japp nodded. "And Miss Adams killed herself?"

"She did, on this very night. Took an overdose of veronal, poor woman. Jenny was told by Carlotta's servant that Carlotta came home very late, after midnight, tired and irritated, and fell asleep instantly. She never woke up. But sorry, I can't see how it can be connected with the case."

"Last night Jane Wilkinson was at Sir Montague Corner's and at Piccadilly Hotel, yet a woman looking just like her came to Marsh House and possibly stabbed Lord Edgware," Poirot explained.

"Carlotta wasn't acquainted with the Marshes," Brian shook his head. "They were always very proud. It was Jane who stabbed her husband!"

"She had no motive and no opportunity," Japp said. "We questioned the staff of Piccadilly Hotel, Sir Corner's butler, everyone confirmed her alibi."

"Well, then it was someone else, naturally," Brian Martin said. "And what do I have to do with all this?"

"You were in a close relationship with Jane Wilkinson, weren't you?" Japp asked. Brian chuckled:

"Well, yes, but it was six months ago. We did fall for each other badly. We saw each other even in Marsh House. I think she bought a statue of mine. She asked her husband for a divorce, he never gave it. I mean, never gave it when she wanted to marry me. Just when I thought old George Marsh was close to surrendering, the Duke of Merton came along, and Jane forgot me and everything else. Haven't you heard about it? Every gossip talks about Jane's affairs."

"We ask because…" Poirot made a dramatic pause. "Because you, too, were seen last night entering the back door of Marsh House."

For once, Brian Martin looked like his film characters. A melodramatic but completely sincere look of pure shock came over his face. His mouth hung open, and his eyes grew wide.

"What? Who said that?"

"Ronald Marsh – the new Lord Edgware," Poirot spoke calmly.

"What do you mean? Why should I kill old George? I'm not the one to marry Jane anyway."

"Just because of that. Jane rejected you for the Duke and you are quite angry with it. You want revenge," Poirot said.

"If I wanted revenge, I would have killed the Duke! But I killed _no one_! I was having dinner with Jenny yesterday night!" Brian snapped. "Sorry, I'm late for the filming. Good afternoon."

After we left Brian Martin's house, Japp said:

"Well, it seems that everything's still the same. Either it's the woman who looked like Lady Edgware or it is Ronald Marsh. Don't you agree, Poirot?"

"Partly," came the reply.

"Do you suspect Brian Martin?"

"Maybe, but it's not what I'm thinking about," Poirot said. "Half of the evidence we were showered with this morning was a complete lie. The question is – which half?"

"Poirot! What a… brave guess! Where did you get the idea?" I exclaimed.

"In Brian Martin's house, when speaking to the actor," Poirot answered. "You know what this case reminds me of? The murder of Linnet Doyle, you remember, _la jeune belle millionnaire_. There were pearl necklaces mixed up in the case, too. And there was a very silly clue near the body – just like the lock of hair by Lord Edgware's side…"

"Anyway, what use it does to us?" Japp wondered.

"The silly clue in Mrs. Doyle's case was dropped to actually eliminate the person it was supposed to incriminate. I'm almost sure now that here the situation is the same."

"Why?"

"Well, the murderer can't incriminate both Lady Edgware and Geraldine Marsh at a time. The two women were on bitter terms with each other, they just couldn't be accomplices. He or she wants the crime to be traced either to one or to the other. Judging by the actions with the impersonating and the forgery of the necklace, the murderer wishes Lady Edgware to be found guilty. Therefore, a clue pointing to Geraldine – especially an idiotic thing like the lock – is designed to eliminate her."

"It must be Ronald Marsh, then," Japp said. "He and Geraldine seem to be fond of each other."

"Geraldine is fond of him all right, but does he return her affections?" Poirot raised his eyebrow. "I doubt he would have wanted to specifically eliminate her. And also his own alibi looks good."

"What? He was seen entering Marsh House!" I couldn't believe my ears.

"_Vraiment_, he was. But he walked like a drunk, he came outside with a pearl necklace – one might even think he wanted himself to be noticed!"

"Perhaps he thought that if the attention was drawn to him, Geraldine would go unseen."

"Can't you remember? Alfred Grithe confirmed that Ronald Marsh came to the house alone! It's obvious Geraldine is just shielding her cousin. She never left the opera. That leads to the conclusion that Ronald Marsh was alone and didn't care that he could have been seen."

"But, nevertheless, he's the most likely criminal!" Japp couldn't see the point of Poirot's thoughts. I couldn't either. But Poirot was silent for some time, until he said:

"We must go to the living place of Carlotta Adams now. It is again too much of a coincidence – a parodist of Lady Edgware comes late and takes a drug overdose on the very night Lady Edgware seems to be in two places at once."


	5. The Thievery

**Chapter 5. The Thievery**

Carlotta's maid was in tears.

"Oh, poor Miss Adams! She never hurt a fly! Who would do this to her?"

"So you think she was murdered?" Poirot asked.

"Either murdered or _made_ to kill herself," the maid said with certainty. "She was so lively – so optimistic. Actually, she once said to me: 'Whatever life does to you, don't part with it.' Besides, she didn't take veronal. Or any drugs. I never saw her doing it."

"Which doesn't necessarily mean she did not do it," Poirot said. "I'm very sorry, mademoiselle – can we examine her belongings?"

"Yes, yes – the body's already removed."

Poirot and Japp searched the actress's room and found nothing of importance. That was until Poirot opened Carlotta's purse and exclaimed:

"There it is!"

Japp rushed to look at whatever Poirot had found. It was a red wooden box with gold ornaments, with traces of veronal inside. Also, there was a note lying in it:

_Dear Carlotta, that's all I could find for now. I hope you'll manage. See you at R's. Love, G. A. M. Enjoy._

"What dreadful handwriting," Japp commented.

"G. A. M…" Poirot murmured thoughtfully. "This case seems to be filled with events that can be or cannot be coincidences."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"G. A. M.," he repeated. "It might be – just _might_ be – Geraldine Anna Marsh."

"She takes drugs?" I cried.

"It's a possibility. She's a very nervous and unstable girl. In that case, 'R' possibly stands for Ronald."

Japp looked intrigued:

"Well, well! Poirot, you are again brilliantly…"

"But it doesn't make sense," Poirot sighed. "This whole case seems to be filled also with stupid melodramatic things that don't make sense."

We quietly continued the inspection, until Japp suddenly said:

"Poirot, you were absolutely right. Look at this letter. The maid told me Carlotta wanted to send it this morning. It's addressed to her sister, Lucy, who lives in America."

Japp showed us several sheets of paper and read aloud:

_Remember Ronald Marsh I told you about? Well, he loved my Jane Wilkinson parody, said that Lord Edgware himself wouldn't tell the difference, and offered me to take part in a small joke, well, farce, using my impersonation __talents__ – can you imagine? I inquired whether I'd be paid. Oh, dear Lucy, I was stunned when I heard 'You'll get ten thousand pounds!' Ten thousand for some joke! Well, tonight I'm going to turn into Lady Edgware…_

"Goodness!" I exclaimed. Japp was more than excited to finish the case himself, without Poirot's further help:

"So, Ronald and Geraldine work together to get rid of Lord Edgware, a hateful old grunt with a fine lot of money. They get acquainted with Carlotta Adams, who takes drugs – just as Geraldine! Geraldine sends her drugs, and Ronald offers her a fantastic fee for a "farce" – a visit to Lord Edgware. Carlotta comes to Marsh House, then, perhaps, she and Lord Edgware fight, she's frightened and quickly escapes. Ronald comes to the house, disguising himself as if drunk, stabs his uncle, throws his cousin's lock near the body and leaves (unaware of being noticed by the butler). Then…"

"What about the necklaces?" Poirot interrupted.

"Two forgeries were both made by Ronald's orders. He throws one of them near the back door to confuse everyone. So, then…"

"And the man Ronald Marsh noticed entering the house?" Poirot interrupted again.

"Poirot, you surprise me! It was just a hurriedly composed lie!"

"Japp, please, do me one favor," Poirot said gravely. "Don't arrest Ronald and Geraldine Marsh before I have a talk with Miss Carroll, then with Jenny Driver, that friend of Carlotta's (also a _friend _of Brian Martin), and with Sir Montague Corner, and also ask Miss Marsh a few questions."

"Nonsense!" Japp cried.

"This won't take longer than several days. Believe me, we may now be utterly mistaken," Poirot said.

Poirot returned to his house to have some peace for his "little gray cells". Japp left for Marsh House again. I decided to take a stroll.

The sun was shining, the wind was blowing, and the flowers in the parks and gardens were in full bloom. Everything was full of life and happiness. It seemed as though the horrible midnight mystery at Marsh House was nothing but a nightmare. I whistled joyfully and felt how wonderful this world is… until I saw a sobbing young lady running in my direction.

As she got closer, I recognized Geraldine Marsh.

"Miss Marsh!" I exclaimed. She stopped and looked at me closer (the sunrays were narrowing her view).

"Oh, sorry, Captain Hastings," she said, breathless. "I thought Monsieur Poirot was with you."

"What do you want to tell him? Tell me, I'll go to him at once."

"I didn't kill my father!" she cried. "I didn't! I didn't! Inspector Japp hinted that he suspects Ronald and me. But neither of us is guilty! I swear! Honestly!"

"Don't worry, Miss Marsh," I said reassuringly. "Until Poirot finishes the investigation, it's unavoidable to be under suspicion. But he does not think you are guilty."

"Everyone does think we are!" Geraldine sobbed. "Everyone but Miss Carroll! Jane doesn't try to conceal her dislike for both Ronald and me. Brian Martin who used to be on friendly terms with us is now avoids even saying hello when we accidentally see him! The Duke of Merton plainly told Jane that it is the case of a 'wicked stepdaughter'! Even the servants are frightened of us. Alfred Grithe always looks at me as if I'm going to stab him!"

I attempted to console the poor girl as I could, but she wasn't much convinced by my assurances of her not being thought guilty.

She went back home, and I didn't think anymore on the case until the evening, when Poirot called me and said:

"Now we have a difficulty. The hateful butler has disappeared. Also the body of Lord Edgware was removed, Miss Carroll had a chance to clean the library and put the books in order – and she missed three thousand pounds in French francs which were there before the murder."

I immediately came to Marsh House, where Poirot and Japp were already questioning the servants. No one was very sad about Alfred Grithe's absence, but everyone was worried about being possibly accused of thievery.

The hosts of the house were the only ones who didn't worry about it at all.

"I have hundreds of thousands now," Ronald Marsh said to me. "I shouldn't be worried about mere three thousand, especially when I am trying to prove myself not guilty. And I'm incredibly glad that Grithe has gone away finally."

"Indeed," Geraldine, obviously completely exhausted from the nerves and the crying, agreed. "Right now the fact of Grithe leaving us is worth three thousand pounds."

We found out nothing in the evening and finally retired. Poirot said that he'd be going to Sir Corner's on the following morning.


	6. Jane Wilkinson and Paris

**Chapter 6. Jane Wilkinson and Paris**

Sir Montague Corner and his friend, a young actor Donald Ross, were playing golf. Sir Corner's butler Kenneth Whyte (an elegant, distinguished, smiling elderly man, who was as unlike Alfred Grithe with his badly kempt golden hair, awful manners and cautious look as possible!) told us to wait a little. Poirot seized the chance to ask him:

"Was it you who answered the phone call for Lady Edgware the night before last?"

"Yes, sir. I've already told Inspector Japp so, sir," Mr. Whyte nodded.

"Who was on the phone?"

"Grithe, sir, the butler of Marsh House. He asked for Lady Edgware. I went to the dining-hall, excused myself for the intrusion and told Lady Edgware about the call. She came, answered the phone, and said 'Oh, dear. Yes, I'll come now. Thank you. Thank you." She became quite uneasy and nervous and said: 'Whyte, call me a taxi – now, please!' I called her a taxi, she went away, and returned after thirty minutes or so."

"And then?"

"Well, then, everything went fine. She was much more joyful and relaxed. She also told Sir Corner 'I found my necklace at last.' That's all I know, sir."

Just at the moment, Sir Corner and Mr. Ross came into the house.

"So, well, Monsieur Poirot!" Sir Corner smiled. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"To the unpleasant matter of Lord Edgware's death," Poirot said.

"Oh, yes, of course," Sir Corner turned serious.

"Lady Edgware dined here on the night of her husband's murder, did she not?" Poirot asked.

"Right, sir."

"Can you describe her… state? Mood?"

"She was very joyful and seemingly happy. The phone call about the necklace frustrated her, but when she returned, she was flushed and agitated but smiling again, and calmed down in no time."

"A most intelligent lady!" Donald Ross interrupted. "She and I had a good talk on Phoenician influence in Greek culture, and on Plato's _Republic_, and also on Spartan coinage. She was very much interested in the iron coins I have in my collection."

How extraordinary people can be, I thought. This young actor with a naïve look and a boyish grin and the glamorous selfish Jane Wilkinson were the last people whom I would have thought to be interested in Phoenicia, Plato's philosophy and Spartan coinage.

Sir Corner and Donald Ross confirmed Whyte's evidence about the phone call, and Sir Corner, being in an excellent mood, invited us to another soiree he was giving on this day.

I did not want to accept the invitation at all, but Poirot shot me a warning look and said:

"Yes, of course, Sir Corner, Hastings and I will be glad to come."

Only when we arrived at the party did I realize why Poirot brought us here. Brian Martin, a young brown-haired woman (probably Jenny Driver), Jane Wilkinson, and a frowning man who turned out to be the Duke of Merton – all of them were there.

Unfortunately, Japp called Poirot only fifteen minutes later and told him about a letter arriving from the sister of Carlotta Adams. Poirot excused himself and left me with all those sirs, ladies, earls, Hollywood stars and who knows whom else. Sir Corner had a habit of calling a large variety of different people on every party of his.

Finally, I sat at the table and pretended to be fully concerned on the delicious salad. Suddenly, though, I overheard a crashing sound Jane Wilkinson's voice:

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Ross – Mr. Allen – Mrs. Allen. I'm so clumsy."

"Never mind, Lady Edgware, the servants are coming to clean it up. After all, I've heard breaking a cup is a good sign," an unknown woman said.

"Oh, Lady Edgware, and as you're here…" a man's voice spoke. "We were just discussing the subject of the judgment of Paris in modern art."

"Judgment of Paris in modern art? Goodness!" Jane's voice rang out again. "You need no art. You need a newspaper. Every week you read about terrible robberies in Paris going completely unsolved. And these dreadful French judges, who…"

"No, we were talking about Paris the ancient Greek prince, whose judgment of the three goddesses led to the abduction of Helen and the disastrous Trojan war," Donald Ross corrected her.

"Oh, Mr. Ross, you know so much about ancient monarchs! I, myself, am a Liberal," Jane said and walked away. Mr. and Mrs. Allen laughed.

I don't know how I survived the rest of the soiree, but I did. When I was leaving, Donald Ross asked me quietly:

"Captain Hastings, can I call Monsieur Poirot tomorrow? It concerns a very important matter. About what Jane said of Paris."

"Yes, of course," I nodded. Donald smiled and left.

Just that moment, Jane walked to me:

"It was a pleasure to see you again, Captain Hastings."

"The pleasure was all mine, ma'am," I said.

Finally, I was able to escape. I came to Poirot's to tell him about Donald Ross's words, but Poirot wasn't at home. Miss Lemon, his secretary, told me:

"He was called away to Marsh House. Apparently Miss Marsh has been kidnapped."

I instantly caught a taxi and arrived at Marsh House, trying to get over the shock. I found there a confused Japp, a thoughtful Poirot, a distraught Miss Carroll and an over-worried and surprisingly sober Ronald.

"Geraldine was in the library," Miss Carroll sobbed. "I just left to visit my friend – and Ronald was upstairs. He heard a struggle and Geraldine's cries 'Get away! Let me go!', but when he rushed down the stairs, she… she was taken away."

The library was a mess. Books were thrown around the floor. One bookcase had fallen onto the floor as well. A broken teacup lay exactly where just the day before Lord Edgware's lifeless head had fallen. Geraldine's light brown coat was lying on the chair, all crumpled and marked with several fresh blood stains.

"I'll never forgive myself," Ronald said. "To think of it – I was just three floors away…"

"Has the kidnapper left any note, for example, a demand for money?" I asked.

"Nothing," Japp replied grimly, "Nothing at all."

"Poor, dear Geraldine!" Miss Carroll cried. She seemed a different person without her good sense, strictness and self-control. "She might have been killed and dragged away so that the body won't be found."

"Why killed?" Poirot asked.

"Look – there's blood on her coat! She has been stabbed, poor thing, like her father!"

"Miss Carroll, I doubt she was stabbed 'like her father'," Poirot chuckled. "There was a great fight here. Lord Edgware was stabbed and died instantaneously."

"What does it matter? She fought but the beast who did it was stronger, so he stabbed her at last!"

"Nonsense, Miss Carroll, don't delude yourself with horror stories. Lord Edgware, despite his age, was not a weak invalid, and he was stabbed without any struggle. A weak lady like Geraldine, especially absorbed in reading, can be stabbed by anyone. What is more, the stains on the coat are far from each other, and each stain is quite large. Which means one of two things: either the person who did it deliberately made several non-fatal wounds before murdering Geraldine (what for?), or he or she did not mean to kill the girl and did not kill her. As I've said, there would have been no difficulty to stab Geraldine fatally at once."

Miss Carroll sighed but tried to calm down.

"Also," Poirot added, "you've said that Geraldine yelled not 'Don't kill me' or 'No!' or 'Have mercy' but 'Get away! Let me go!' It means that she was more possibly being kidnapped than murdered."

Ronald and Miss Carroll were soon sent away from the scene of the crime, and Japp burst into a speech:

"Why, it is more than certainly connected with the murder. Miss Marsh must have found something out about the murderer, so he or she…"

"Japp, so you no longer suspect her?" Poirot raised his eyebrow.

"But…"

"It can be a farce. The kidnapping, I mean."

"How?"

"Remember this: she was perfectly alone, the servants were either in the kitchen or in their rooms, the secretary was away, Ronald was upstairs. Unobserved, she could make some non-dangerous cut on her arm, perhaps, then soak her coat in blood, and crumple it on the chair. Then it was easy for her to imitate a fight: she cried, threw the bookcase on the floor, broke her teacup, and when she heard her cousin coming, she ran away from the house.

"But as far as we know there are no reasons for it. If she was guilty and wanted to get away from justice, she could just as easily steal some money from Ronald and quietly sneak out of the house – and her absence wouldn't have been considered unnatural for quite a long time! The only reason for her to fake her own kidnapping is to allay suspicion or, which is more possible, to throw suspicion on someone else!

"Yet there is one strong point against it. If Geraldine wished to make someone look guilty, she would have faked an attempted murder, not a kidnapping! For example, she would have put strychnine in her own tea and then pretend to discover it, or cut herself while walking outside and rush home, pretending to have barely escaped from a murderer with a knife. It would have been much easier and much less risky – whilst this, if this was a farce, could have been discovered by any accident. Suppose Ronald was a bit faster? Suppose Miss Carroll unexpectedly returned?

"No, this does not fit together. Unless we find a better reason for Geraldine faking her kidnapping, we must stick to the idea that she was kidnapped by someone else."


	7. Poirot's Versions

**Chapter 7. The Torn Page**

After the library was checked for fingerprints (of course, nothing peculiar was found), Japp left, and I asked Poirot:

"Well, what do you think? Why was Miss Marsh kidnapped?"

"That is very mysterious," Poirot admitted. "The first question I ask myself is this: Is the kidnapping connected with Lord Edgware's murder?

"Answer One: it is not. Therefore, it has been committed for some political or even maybe religious reasons, unknown to us, and only the time has been chosen to mislead us. This version has no proof, yet there is no actual proof against it. So we'll let this matter rest for a while and go to Answer Two.

"Answer Two: it is connected with the murder. Now I ask myself: In what way?

"First, let's assume Geraldine found out something about the murderer. He or she learned of it and kidnapped her – only to kill her in some remote place. We are again on a false track: we think she's alive. In that case, the most probable suspect is Ronald Marsh."

"What?" I cried.

"Recall Miss Carroll's evidence. We have only Ronald's words that he was upstairs. It could have been he who drugged his cousin, made an artificial dreadful mess in the library, cut Geraldine's arm and wiped the cut with her own coat, then carried her away, killed her, and ran to tell Miss Carroll about 'the kidnapping'.

"But there is one major argument again all this! Geraldine, being so fond of Ronald, would have zealously shielded him in every court of the world! Remember: she actually lied to us about going to Marsh House with him and entering the house herself! So Ronald doesn't need to shut her up – he already knows she'll deceive anyone for him.

"So let us think of other versions…"

"But could any other person kidnap Geraldine because she found something out?" I asked.

"No," Poirot stated firmly. "The doors of Marsh House were both locked. The servants confirmed it. Of course, there is a possibility that Geraldine opened the door to the kidnapper herself or ordered one of the servants to do so – but in that case, the servants would have told us that. That is, unless…"

"Unless what?" I wondered.

"You must remember the strange man seen by Ronald Marsh. The man who looked like Brian Martin – and who somehow had a key to the house."

"But Ronald lied!"

"Hastings, we are now assuming that the murderer and the kidnapper is not Ronald, that's why we assume Ronald did not lie. He clearly said that he believed 'Aunt Jane' to be guilty. So why would he need to have such a foolish try to incriminate Brian Martin?"

"And who's the man in this case?"

"I don't know," Poirot confessed. "I have millions of utterly stupid melodramatic ideas in my head. This man could have been Geraldine's lover or former lover. He could have been an accomplice of Lord Edgware's first wife…"

"But all these theories are quite possible," I said.

"Possible! For your romantic imagination – yes," Poirot grunted. "So, let's think of other versions of the kidnapping.

"Let's say Geraldine was a murderer's accomplice. She might – just might – have been kidnapped by someone else as the sign to the murderer. Money's demanded for kidnapping – and only the murderer understands that it is actually the hush money. That is all very well, but the kidnapper seemingly left no demand for a payment!

"There are several different explanations for this puzzle. First, let us say that the murderer of Lord Edgware was the mysterious lookalike of Brian Martin. What if he is an accomplice of Miss Carroll?"

"Miss Carroll?" I exclaimed, stunned.

"Yes. The single, childless woman adores Geraldine like her own daughter. She can't stand the poor girl being so awfully treated by her father. So she asks some male relation of hers to help her to murder Lord Edgware and tells Geraldine about the plan too. But after the murder Ronald learns of it somehow, kidnaps Geraldine, and leaves a note to Miss Carroll. Miss Carroll is extremely frightened. She hurriedly destroys the note. She is sure that the police suspect Ronald, so he would be almost certainly arrested anyway, and Geraldine will be brought back.

"Or maybe all is vice versa. Ronald and Geraldine are the guilty party, and Miss Carroll asks some male relation of hers to kidnap Geraldine – both for the girl's safety, as Miss Carroll is fond of her, and as a sign to Ronald. And Ronald has all the time he needs to destroy the note with the demand for money she leaves or gives him.

"But alas, _mon ami_, all these versions are incomplete. These pearl necklaces, Carlotta Adams (who never took veronal, as her sister writes, by the way), Geraldine's lock – all this doesn't fit together."

"Like in a detective novel where someone has torn out the pages with the solution," I joked. Poirot suddenly sprang to his feet:

"What did you say?"

I awkwardly repeated my rather poor joke. Poirot's eyes went wide:

"I have to go to Scotland Yard – now!"

"But it's so late!"

"There is a vital clue just lying in Japp's desk!"

"What clue?"

"The letter of Carlotta Adams to her sister!"

We caught a taxi and soon arrived at Scotland Yard. Japp was still there, searching through Lord Edgware's papers.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"A will," Japp said. "If such a thing exists, it may clear the case somehow."

"Another paper will do it," Poirot said. "Give the letter where Carlotta Adams mentioned Ronald Marsh."

Japp handed him a wad of paper sheets. Poirot examined them and cried triumphantly:

"See? All these sheets are double, except for this one! The previous sheet ends with 'Remember Ronald Marsh I told you about? Well,'. And the next one begins with 'he loved my Jane Wilkinson parody'. The single sheet looks as though its other half has been _torn_! Look."

Japp closely looked at the sheets:

"Yes, perhaps."

"So! What do you think of this?"

"You think the murderer found the letter and tore away the incriminating page, while the previous one conveniently mentioned Ronald Marsh?"

"_Precisement_. And here you need to remember something. Carlotta Adams was the best friend of Jenny Driver, who also – ahem! – seems to be a very close friend of Brian Martin."

"Brian Martin?"

"Yes. Ronald Marsh, after all, saw a man very like the actor entering Marsh House. But… no, it's unlikely."

"Poirot, but you just said…" I exclaimed. Poirot shook his head:

"The key to Marsh House that the man seemed to have. The necklaces. The lock. It doesn't fit together."

"Why?" asked Japp. "You can link all these clues."

"No, you can't," Poirot said. "These clues point to entirely different people. Shall I make a list?"

Japp and I nodded.

"_Eh bien_. One. The visit of a woman looking like Jane Wilkinson to Marsh House points either to Lady Edgware herself or to Carlotta Adams. Two. The draft of an imitation of a pearl necklace which corresponds with Alfred Grithe's evidence and the inheritance of Lord Edgware's money and title incriminate Ronald Marsh. Three. The lock of Geraldine Marsh's hair is, after all, supposed to point to Geraldine Marsh. Four. The evidence of Ronald Marsh points to Brian Martin. Five. The destroyed clue to the real criminal's identity – this letter. The only help from it is that we know for certain that the murderer at least twice met with Carlotta Adams."

"What is wrong with this list?" I wanted to know.

"There are too many clues incriminating too many people. Also there are the clues that point to no one in particular but are very important: the real pearl necklace and its second imitation, for instance. So there's a lot for the little gray cells to think about."

Suddenly, the phone rang. Japp picked it up:

"Scotland Yard, Detective Inspector Japp here… What?.." he listened for a while. "Give me his address, please, Miss Arlsbury…" he took a pen and a notebook and wrote something down. "Thank you. We'll be there in several minutes."

"What is it?" Poirot inquired.

"It was Jean Arlsbury, an actress from Covent Garden. Her fiancé Donald Ross was found stabbed. I think the case of Lord Edgware will have to wait a little."

"No, it won't," I said and told Japp and Poirot about my encounter with Ross.

"Again it is too extraordinary to be accidental," Poirot said. "Donald Ross wants to tell me something about Lord Edgware's murder and voila! in a few hours he's killed. We must head to his house at once."

And so we did.


	8. The Script Of The Film

**Chapter 8. The Script Of The Film**

Donald Ross was lying on the floor in the hall of his luxurious house. The young actor was stabbed in the back. His hands still clutched a pen and some thick notebook.

Jean Arlsbury, an ebony-haired girl of no more than twenty, dressed in an unusual white dress with a lot of jewelry and a very out-of-place leather raincoat, was kneeling by the dead man's side, fidgeting and weeping hysterically. Her face, pretty by nature, looked awful with the makeup mixed with tears.

"Miss Arlsbury, I'm very sorry for your loss," Japp said. "But we need to ask you some questions."

"Yes – yes," the girl nodded, probably barely hearing anything.

"It was you who discovered the crime, right?"

Jean Arlsbury gave us another violent nod:

"I came to him – I was furious – he didn't come to my performance of Aida – I thought he was just being capricious – so I just stormed out of the theatre in the break – and rushed to him – and I saw… I saw…" she burst into tears.

"Who might have done it?" Japp asked. "What do you think?"

"I don't know – I don't know – everyone adored Donald – he didn't have an enemy in the world…"

"But still?"

"Well…" she hesitated and then quickly added:

"Nothing."

"Mademoiselle, we need to know the complete truth to find the criminal," Poirot said. "You have a reason to believe it was a _crime passionnel_?"

The actress stammered:

"Oh… there… uh… I don't… Well, Donald told me that Jane Wilkinson was smitten with him!"

"What?" I cried. "She's over forty, and she wants to marry the Duke of Merton."

"Hastings, you should have lived in the Victorian era," Poirot remarked. "Nowadays women, especially the type of Lady Edgware, can marry one man, love another one, and go out with yet a third one – and all these ones can be twenty years the women's junior! When did Mr. Ross tell you about such a possibility, mademoiselle?"

"After the dinner at Sir Corner's – on the night when Lord Edgware was murdered," Jean explained. "Donald came to meet me and I asked him if he had enjoyed himself. 'Yes, very much,' he said. 'It was very nice.' And I wanted to know what he liked in particular. 'Well, I spent most of the evening talking to Lady Edgware, and it was very interesting. She's interested in ancient Mediterranean cultures just like ourselves! Although, you know, our conversation grew more strained as the evening progressed, 'cause, I believe, she went head over heels for me! Just before the telephone call for her, she asked 'Mr. Ross, could there be a chance of us having such a pleasant talk again?' and then she blushed as I tried my best to shirk the answer and turned away.'

"I was quite jealous until Donald assured me five or six times that there was no chance for Lady Edgware. And today – when Donald didn't come to the theatre – I thought at first…" the actress sobbed into her handkerchief.

I tried to console the poor lady, and Poirot took the notebook from Donald's hand. It had a handwritten title on the cover "MONA LISA'S ENIGMATIC SMILE".

"It's the title of Brian Martin's new movie," Japp said, glancing at the notebook. "Donald Ross was supposed to play a major part."

Poirot opened the notebook and saw handwritten parts of the movie's script. He flapped through some pages and put the notebook down.

"Mona Lisa," I mumbled. "How peculiar."

"Nothing peculiar," Jean sighed. "Mona Lisa is stolen from the Louvre – an American detective searches for it and falls in love with a seemingly obscure painter Elise from Montparnasse. There is a double meaning, that's all."

Poirot gave her a quick look, as though struck by some idea.

"It's not that," I explained to the actress. "Just – well, this crime case seems to be full with references to Paris."

"Well, that's not funny for me, and Donald's death has nothing to do with Mona Lisa's Enigmatic Smile whatever," Jean said.

"But it must have something to do with Paris," I began.

"Captain Hastings, if you're trying to cheer me up, you must know you're now doing quite the opposite thing," Jean whispered as tears welled in her eyes again.

"No, no!" I exclaimed. "I just meant to tell you about the strange behavior of Mr. Ross at Sir Corner's today," and I again began to recite the conversation Donald Ross had with the Allens and Jane Wilkinson about Paris.

"So Mr. Ross then said: 'No, we were talking about Paris the prince, whose judgment of the goddesses led to the abduction of Helen and the Trojan war'…" I was speaking when Poirot suddenly jumped up and cried:

"There it is! C'est drôle!"

"What's it, Poirot?" I asked.

"Now I know almost everything!" he announced. "Just, Japp, could you please go to every room in this house and check the fireplaces?"

Japp's eyes grew wide, but he went down the hall and signaled the rest of the policemen to do so. Finally, they returned and told Poirot that the fireplace in a spare room was lit.

"That's it," Poirot chuckled. "Now let me see…"

He walked to the spare room, but not before taking a jug of water from the kitchen. I heard him splashing water on the fireplace and then digging in the ashes. He soon came back with several half-burnt pieces of paper in his hand. He handed them to me, and I read:

… _think me stupid, I am not the kind…_

…_Corner's, where I first saw you. I must confe…_

… ₤_10000 for the imperso…_

…_on't know why I am writing this, I feel so dizzy…_

"Oh my!" I exclaimed. Poirot took them back and smiled:

"Now I must leave."

"Where are you going?" Japp asked.

"To the sunny gardens," Poirot said.

"Are you sane?"

"Sunny Gardens is the estate of Lord James and Lady Rosalie Dawlish, you see," Poirot said. "I need to know whether Lady Dawlish is in Africa."

"Wait!" Japp shouted as the detective rushed towards the opened door. "What does it matter? How is the presence of Lady Dawlish – whoever she is – in Africa relevant to this case?"

"It is of vital importance!" Poirot cried before leaving.


	9. The Plan That Went Wrong

**Chapter 9. The Plan That Went Wrong**

Poirot returned in three days, during which the investigations practically stood still. He ran inside Scotland Yard, where Japp and I were questioning Jean Arlsbury for the fourth time.

"Now we must go to Marsh House and explain everything!" Poirot cried, storming inside. We stood agape.

"Everything what?" I stammered.

"Everything!" Poirot repeated. "Mademoiselle Arlsbury, you must go with us, because it is related to the death of your fiancé. Japp, tell the police to gather everyone – Brian Martin, Jenny Driver, Lady Edgware, and the maid of Carlotta Adams – and send them to Marsh House too!"

All of us were to startled to ask anything. In less than half an hour, everybody who was connected with the case – well, apart from Alfred Grithe, Geraldine Marsh and Carlotta's maid who was in the countryside – was in the living-room of Marsh House.

"_En avant, messieurs et mesdames_," Poirot spoke as he walked into the room too. "As you all must know, the series of terrible crimes began with Lord Edgware's murder. My investigation began less than twelve hours after this crime. And from the first moment of it, something in the whole thing struck me. Then I realized: there were too many clues and there was too much information! The murderer could mask the true clues with a pack of false ones, but not a pack this large and colorful! So, why were there these clues – like the pearl necklaces – that were seemingly unnecessary?

"The answer is: because all they were added to the case on the spur of the moment – or, better to say, on several different spurs of completely different moments. But, again, why? Why? There are several reasons, but the most important one is the following. _The criminal's plan of Lord Edgware's murder had failed_."

"What do you mean?" I exclaimed. "Was he killed by accident?"

"No, that is not what I mean, Hastings. The plan of establishing the alibi for the murder went wrong. The murderer would have had an iron alibi, had it not been for a dreadful accident. After the accident, the criminal began to construct another system of lies, which was believed to be a better one than the previous. Alas! the system got crashed, because other person interfered…"

"Poirot, stop your abstract philosophy!" Japp pleaded. "Before I grow old, retire and move to Brighton, I would at least like to know the name of Lord Edgware's murderer."

"Fine," Poirot said. "So, do you want to know what exactly happened on the night of Lord Edgware's death?"

There was a pause, and he continued:

"Carlotta Adams leaves her apartment, puts on an enormous pince-nez as a disguise and goes to Piccadilly Hotel, where she has previously booked a room under the name of Zelma Van Dusen. She goes to the room – just in time, for there is a knock on her door and Carlotta opens it to welcome Lady Edgware."

"What?" Jane Wilkinson laughed.

"Lady Edgware, please, bear with the eccentric foreigner and listen further without interrupting for several minutes. The two woman exchange clothes, Carlotta puts on a blond wig, and Lady Edgware – the pince-nez and a dark wig. And Carlotta Adams – not Jane Wilkinson – goes to Sir Corner's, for Jane Wilkinson promised her ten thousand pounds for a small impersonation farce.

"At the party of Sir Corner's, Carlotta happens to get acquainted with the delightful Donald Ross. Carlotta was _only a little over thirty_ – Mr. Ross was just several years her junior. She falls for him, but he only sees her as a very intelligent lady who knows a lot about Antic cultures. Carlotta begins to get distressed.

"And to make matters worse, there is a phone call from Marsh House. 'Your Ladyship, your pearl necklace is found,' Alfred Grithe says. Carlotta is confused. She is totally unprepared for such an accident! She hurriedly excuses herself and goes to consult Jane Wilkinson.

"Lady Edgware is patiently waiting at the hotel. When Carlotta, all distraught, rushes and tells her about the necklace, she is furious! Of course – the expensive imitation that she used for safety and missed some days ago! She calls Marsh House, apologizes and tells Mr. Grithe there has been a mistake. Then she takes Carlotta outside, explaining to the receptionist that she – Zelma Van Dusen – is leaving. She checks out, and in the following half an hour, Carlotta is ordered to stroll around the streets and be observed by as many people as possible and Jane Wilkinson goes to Marsh House!

"She approaches the house, takes the glasses and the wig off and stuffs them into her purse (where there is also a kitchen knife). Then she calmly walks inside, stabs her husband, pretends to be excited and agitated and leaves! She meets Carlotta, who is unhappy that the farce failed, and offers her some chocolates to cheer her up. The chocolates are very neatly stuffed with veronal. It's night, so Carlotta does not properly see what she's actually eating!

"Then, they exchange identities. Lady Edgware returns to Sir Corner's and depressed Carlotta goes home. The effects of veronal begin to show. Half-hallucinating, she writes Donald Ross a love letter and secretly posts it. She also wants to post a letter to her sister, but falls asleep.

"What she doesn't know is that Lady Edgware noticed the letter while Carlotta was putting on her disguise in the hotel. Back then, the letter mentioned Lady Edgware herself – and the torn page actually began as "**s**he loved"! The first wish of hers was to destroy the letter, but she tore one page off – incriminating her nephew and, by the removal of one single letter, tracing the crime to a _man_. Anyway, she was going to put a forged note from Geraldine Marsh and a box with traces of veronal into Carlotta's bag, so this doesn't alter her plans."

"Very nice and dramatic, but why should I kill George? He gave me a divorce, after all!" Jane shrieked.

"Yes, he did – when you were planning to marry Brian Martin. But the Duke of Merton is a highly Conservative Puritan, who wouldn't want a divorcee – only a maiden or… a _widow_," Poirot said and resumed his explanation:

"Well, what happens next? Carlotta dies in her sleep, Ronald Marsh is safely incriminated, and Jane is at peace. Until she makes a silly mistake about Paris, because she knows nothing of Antic cultures but a lot about modern newspapers and the glorious capital of France. Donald Ross suddenly realizes that this is not the woman whom he met at Sir Corner's.

"He comes home and plans to tell me about it. Maybe he receives the love letter of Carlotta Adams, maybe it still lies in the letterbox – we'll never know, because Lady Edgware hurries to the house of Mr. Ross and stabs him. Then she finds the letter, which is again incriminating her! She lights the nearest fireplace and burns it – unfortunately, the fireplace is in a spare room, which later seems suspicious to me at once. And Donald Ross still has the script of the movie in his hand – which means undoubtedly Jane Wilkinson pretends to have come to consult him about some details of it.

"This is the story of _Lady Edgware's_ path of crime."

"It's falsehood!" Jane shouted. "No one would believe you! You have no proof!"

Poirot opened his mouth to say something, but another voice, clear and firm, came from the door:

"Lady Edgware, you are wrong. I saw you through the opened door, stabbing Donald Ross in his own house. I saw you with my own eyes."


	10. With The Help Of Greek Myths

**Chapter 10. With The Help Of Greek Myths**

Jane Wilkinson lowered her eyes, shocked:

"All right. I see you've caught me… I did it. I'm sorry about Carlotta and Mr. Ross. Not about George – he deserved it. And I just wanted to be happy…"

The man at the door – a man wearing a hat and dark glasses – chuckled faintly. The two policemen who came with Japp escorted Lady Edgware out of the room.

The rest of us – including Poirot – were staring at all that, completely startled, until the man took off his hat and glasses, and Poirot smiled:

"Ah, it's you! _Quelle intelligence_! You came just in time to make the dramatic accusation!"

Alfred Grithe laughed:

"We were lucky enough to catch the next London train after yours. Well, Lady Edgware doesn't need to know that I only learnt of Donald Ross's murder more than a day after it was actually committed! But I think the little lie will do no harm. Especially since, apart from Her Ladyship, I already am the least honest person in this hustle."

He turned and gently ushered Geraldine Marsh into the room.

"Geraldine!" Miss Carroll exclaimed. "You're alive! Oh, thank goodness!"

Geraldine, for the first time smiling, hugged the lady, then Ronald, who was too confused to say anything. Then she rushed back to Grithe's side.

Poirot looked at the happy reunion proudly.

"What does all this mean?" I cried.

"Let me tell you," Poirot said. "You do not object, Monsieur Grithe – Mademoiselle Marsh? _Bien_.

"So, Alfred Grithe is actually the one who crashed Lady Edgware's plans by putting too many clues in her way. I'll tell you how it was – from the beginning.

"First, these are my guesses. Alfred Grithe comes from a very ancient but very poor family. Six months ago, he was in an especially large financial crisis. And he would better lead a respectable servant's life than put a disgrace upon his name by being a beggar. So he searched for a place at some rich house, when he learned about another of Lord Edgware's butlers leaving the unkind master and of Lady Edgware having a wonderfully expensive pearl necklace.

"Mr. Grithe took the chance immediately. Having some talent in handicraft, he hoped to make a copy of the necklace and replace the original with it. He constructed a draft of such an imitation, but to make it completely unmistakable from the real pearls he had to study them closely – and got employed as a butler at Marsh House.

"But his plans were altered completely – because he fell in love with Geraldine Marsh."

"In love?" Miss Carroll exclaimed in utter disbelief and turned to Grithe:

"I thought you absolutely hated her!"

Alfred Grithe blushed, and Poirot continued:

"Oh yes, he disguised it as an opposite emotion. But when I met him, I instantly considered the emotion unnatural. We don't live in the Middle Ages – if one feels such passionate hatred for everyone in the house, he's free to leave it and get a job elsewhere! So Mr. Grithe obviously had masked some of his true feelings.

"But let's continue the story. On the night of Lord Edgware's murder, the butler's in the hall – the servants confirmed it. Yet did they speak the actual truth? They were cleaning the house, chattering, resting – not knowing a murder was being committed and not keeping an eye on Alfred Grithe, whom no one particularly liked. They were sure he was in the hall, they had nothing to believe he wasn't, and they said it. What really happened was…

"After Lady Edgware left Marsh House, the butler comes into the library to see if his master wanted a glass of water or cognac to calm down after the quarrel. The master turns out to be stabbed. Grithe is shocked. His first thought is – 'Geraldine will be suspected, as the victim's daughter.' He desperately tries to find some way to eliminate her completely, but there's nothing. Until he remembers about the lock of her hair he keeps in his breast-pocket – the lock that he must have picked up after one of Miss Marsh's haircuts.

"He puts part of the lock on the table near Lord Edgware's head, knowing perfectly that this is too silly a clue to be really incriminating. On the contrary, it will draw suspicion away from Geraldine Marsh.

"After that, Mr. Grithe calms down – and notices three thousand pounds in French francs, just lying around near Lord Edgware's papers! He can't resist and takes them, and then quietly leaves Marsh House to hide the money.

"During his absence, Ronald and Geraldine Marsh come home for the tablets."

"Wait! How could Grithe see Mr. Marsh if he wasn't in the house when they came?"Japp interrupted.

"He couldn't. He didn't see Ronald Marsh at all," Poirot explained. "He was just plainly jealous of Mr. Marsh and willing to throw suspicion on him. While in fact, everything was vice versa – Ronald Marsh saw him entering the house through the back door, but mistook him for Brian Martin."

"What?" Brian Martin raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Monsieur Martin, when questioning you, I noticed that you and Alfred Grithe are the same height, your build and haircut is quite similar, and a not so sober young man, glancing at Mr. Grithe at midnight, when golden hair looks like dark, can believe him to be you. After all, Ronald Marsh has no reason in the world to consider that his butler might also be out of the house at such a late hour!

"Later at night, when everyone's asleep, Alfred Grithe sneaks into the backyard and throws his imitation of the pearls on the ground. It is a part of his plan of incriminating Ronald Marsh. The plan might have come in his head immediately after the discovery of the body, or later – it doesn't matter. In the morning, Mr. Grithe plays the part of a hateful butler, and with pretended reluctance confesses to have seen Lord Edgware's nephew, who came _alone_ – alone, that is certain – and left with a pearl necklace in his hand.

"I could have already suspected him of lying on that very day, but as it turns out, Ronald Marsh did come to Marsh House at night! I naturally believe – as does Inspector Japp – that Alfred Grithe is telling the truth, and Geraldine is shielding her cousin by diverting suspicion to herself.

"But then Grithe sees that, despite all his efforts, Geraldine Marsh is under suspicion. He's at a loss. He can't find any way to clear her now, so he decides to simply hide her from justice – and it doesn't matter whether she is innocent or guilty.

"He disappears for some time and uses the stolen three thousand pounds to prepare her kidnapping. He purchases a railway ticket to Sunny Gardens, buys some safe draught to drug Geraldine, and also sends an urgent letter to Lord Dawlish, the owner of Sunny Gardens. The good Lord Dawlish, you see, has been a Communist in his youth, and he still has an inclination to blindly believe the lower class is always in the right, and the upper class (besides himself and his family and friends) – in the wrong. His reasonable wife corrects the errors he makes sometimes with such believes, but Lady Dawlish right now is in Egypt, visiting her mother's grave! So Lord Dawlish receives a letter – may I read it, Monsieur Grithe?"

"Of course," Alfred Grithe shrugged. "I gave it to you, do whatever you like."

"Thank you," Poirot took a paper out of his pocket and read aloud:

_Dear Lord Dawlish,_

_I have heard of you as a most benevolent and generous man, so I write to you in a desperate need for help. If you do not wish to provide me with it, please, send a telegram to me right after reading this letter, for I can't afford to stay in London for a long time._

_My name is Alfred Gherit, and I used to be a butler until my good master's untimely death. I was unjustly accused of killing him, as was my fiancée, who had been his secretary. In my efforts to clear ourselves, I sold my house and spent all of my money, and now we are proved innocent, but have nothing to live on._

_Please let me know if you may give me some secretarial job. I wouldn't have asked for more than that – I can manage to live with money and no house. But my darling fiancée is in a dreadful state after all the nerves and stresses, so I also need some good cozy room for her to live in, at least until she recovers. If you give me such a room (you may even reduce my salary to do so), I will be most grateful._

_If I don't receive your telegram where you would refuse to do so, we will arrive at Sunny Gardens on the 6__th__, by the 9:30 morning train from London Victoria._

_Yours respectfully,_

_Alfred Gherit._

Alfred smiled:

"Well, I think I should finish the story, since Monsieur Poirot can only guess and deduce what happened next. Lord Dawlish sent no telegram, and in the evening I crawled to Marsh House to take Geraldine. I found the moment when Miss Carroll was away and Mr. Marsh was upstairs, and rushed into the library, determined to make as much noise and mess as possible – to signal that Geraldine is kidnapped and not murdered. I made sure she'd yell at me before I drugged her with chloroform and carried her away."

"And what are the blood stains on her coat?" Ronald Marsh wanted to know. Geraldine, who was previously silent, suddenly spoke:

"That is Alfred's blood, not mine. When he was holding a hand over my mouth and fumbling in his pockets for the drug with his free hand, I bit him several times."

"And then I wiped my hand on Geraldine's coat, because it was nearby, and we had to leave it in Marsh House," Grithe explained. "It was evening, and there were few people in the streets, so I carried Geraldine almost all the way to Victoria. We were just in time for the train.

"Approximately two hours after the departure, Geraldine's full consciousness returned, and I told her about the reasons of her kidnapping," Alfred blushed again and added:

"Also, I learned that my jealousy of Mr. Marsh was entirely ridiculous."

Ronald Marsh quietly whispered "Thank goodness", and Geraldine laughed:

"Of course it was ridiculous! Ronald just needs motherly attention and care! I was actually shocked when Alfred told me he was madly jealous of us.

"At first, I was furious with Alfred for whisking me away like this, but then I felt that I was really in need of some rest in the countryside, so I calmed down a bit."

"Lord Dawlish himself met us on the station," Grithe resumed. "He did give me a secretarial job, and he allowed us to live in a lovely two-story cottage. Geraldine recovered just magically with the relaxation and the fresh air. We spent two wonderful days in Sunny Gardens, until Monsieur Poirot discovered us. One thing I can't understand, though, is how he found out it was me."

Poirot answered:

"Well, the kidnapping case confused me a lot, until I heard Hastings telling Mademoiselle Arlsbury about the dialogue between Donald Ross and Lady Edgware about Paris. When I heard the words 'the abduction of Helen', it dawned on me that here we have quite a similar case."


	11. The Teatime Discussions

**Chapter 11. The Teatime Discussions**

An awkward silence followed Poirot's final words, until Jean Arlsbury put on her veil and coat and rose from her chair:

"I really must be going to check the preparations for Donald's funeral. I don't know how to thank you, Monsieur Poirot."

Inspector Japp, Brian Martin and Jenny Driver took the hint and excused themselves too, leaving only myself, Poirot, and the inhabitants of Marsh House in the room.

"I think I should prepare tea," Miss Carroll sighed. "Would you stay and have some tea?" she asked us. Poirot nodded:

"We'll be very glad to."

She walked out. Ronald Marsh suddenly expressed a strong wish to prove his gratitude to us by showing me and Poirot his wonderful, excellent, amazing, etc. etc. collection of Pre-Raphaelite paintings while the tea is prepared. I don't like Pre-Raphaelites very much myself, and I politely protested, but Ronald almost dragged us out of the living-room into his own study.

"Now, let me check if the policemen haven't damaged them when hunting for clues," he said as he opened his drawers and examined the contents carefully. While he was doing so, finally, I realized his ultimate goal – to leave Alfred Grithe and Geraldine Marsh alone.

However, leaving to Ronald's study wasn't the best idea, for the two people in question talked quite loudly, and, unintentionally, Poirot and I heard them. Ronald was genuinely absorbed in his paintings and didn't notice it.

"Oh, Raldie, what you must think of me," Alfred's voice echoed from the living-room.

"I think it was dreadful for you – to hear everything about what you thought and did," Geraldine spoke. "And in the presence of strangers like Inspector Japp and Miss Driver…"

"I don't care a bit about Inspector Japp and Miss Driver. But you are certainly mad at me now."

"Alfred, goodness, you don't understand at all…"

The tenderness in Geraldine's last phrase was enough for Poirot to cough politely and suggest:

"Monsieur Marsh, I am sure the pictures should better be exhibited in the dining-hall. The light is better there, and there is more space."

Ronald came back to reality:

"Oh, of course!"

We all came to the dining-hall, and Ronald showed us about thirty paintings, excitedly talking about every single one of them. Miss Carroll brought us tea and then went to call Alfred and Geraldine.

There was no need for that. They came running down the stairway and almost knocked the secretary to the floor.

"I hope none of you minds," Alfred announced with a wide smile. "We're engaged."

"How wonderful!" Ronald exclaimed.

"Geraldine!" Miss Carroll cried. "Alfred Grithe was your butler!"

"But, as I've said, he comes from an ancient family," Poirot said.

Miss Carroll sighed, defeated, and smiled at Geraldine:

"Fine. Congratulations, dear. I always hoped you'd find your match."

She glanced at Alfred Grithe with some uncertainty, but then said:

"Well, now, it's time to celebrate! Come on, have some tea – and I've ordered Leslie to buy a box of chocolates."

We sat around the table, and the awkwardness slowly faded. Ronald joyously chattered with Alfred and Geraldine, Miss Carroll, still reluctant to be friendly to the former butler, asked Poirot about his detective methods. Just sometimes, for the sake of Geraldine and politeness, she turned to the other end of the table with a question such as:

"Have some more apple jam, Mr. Grithe?"

After getting the answer, she hurriedly turned back to us and asked:

"So, Monsieur Poirot, how exactly did you trace the crime to that dreadful woman?"

"I have to thank mostly Monsieur Grithe and his brilliant fake evidence," Poirot smiled. "Because of him, there were so many clues pointing to Monsieur and Mademoiselle Marsh that I couldn't believe either of them to be the real murderer. Then, after discovering the veronal box among Carlotta Adams's possessions with the forged note, I remembered Brian Martin's words. An obscure actress like Carlotta was very unlikely to be friendly with the proud and exclusive Marshes. But she could have been acquainted with Jane Wilkinson – at least because she was a friend of Brian Martin's.

"Then, I recalled everything I've read in the newspaper gossips about the Duke of Merton. I realized that a Puritan like this would never marry a divorcee. Also I discovered the torn page in Carlotta's letter. At first it confused me that it has been torn and not cut. And then I concluded: it was torn to tear away some letter – the 's' from 'she'.

"Actually, after the murder of Donald Ross I was convinced that the murderess was Lady Edgware – she was the only one present at Sir Corner's dinner who was connected with the case. Brian Martin and Jenny Driver were there, though, but they left much earlier than Hastings and thus they weren't able to overhear the words of _ce pauvre_ Monsieur Ross.

"The only problem for me was the kidnapping of Mademoiselle Marsh. I was rather foolish: from the first moment of making the acquaintance of Alfred Grithe I suspected him of being in love with her, but I didn't realize he could kidnap her. And, thankfully, I am on friendly terms with Lord and Lady Dawlish, so I made the right guess when I thought of where to search for Monsieur Grithe and Mademoiselle Marsh."

"And you were not in the least surprised when they announced their engagement," Miss Carroll said almost accusingly.

"Not at all. Everyone, of course, tried to convince me Mademoiselle Marsh was very fond of her cousin, but it was obvious for me that her feelings for Monsieur Marsh were purely motherly, and that she felt quite a strong passion for Monsieur Grithe instead."

"What? I don't believe it!" Miss Carroll exclaimed. "She never told me!"

"Of course she didn't. She tried hard and maybe not without success to dislike him. But Miss Carroll, imagine a young imaginative girl stuck in a family like this – who met a handsome enigmatic man who came to work at her house! She must have been enchanted by him quite quickly. But then he suddenly became very hateful towards everyone, especially her – so…"

"How did you guess it, Poirot?" I asked.

"I noticed that Mademoiselle Marsh was too much worried about him being rude to her. She didn't pay attention to other servants' suspicious glances, but Alfred Grithe's opinion seemed to matter a lot to her. And then, when he left, she looked absolutely crestfallen – though she yawned and spoke weakly to convince us it was just exhaustion."

"And I was worried only about her headaches and stresses, so I never asked her or even noticed anything," Miss Carroll whispered, looking amazed and guilty.

There is no need for further details. In a year, Alfred Grithe and Geraldine Marsh were married. Ronald Marsh, although more than glad with his cousin's engagement, refused to give the couple more than one hundred pounds per year (Geraldine, according to her father's last will, was left practically penniless). Jane Wilkinson, in her first and last act of kindness, sent her stepdaughter the genuine pearl necklace before her execution. But neither Alfred nor Geraldine accepted the present, moreover, in her fury after receiving it Geraldine threw it into the Thames.

Miss Carroll, desperate to convince Ronald to give his cousin at least some fair sum of money, wrote a letter to Poirot, asking for his financial help. But the letter reached us only after Geraldine's wedding, on which Ronald unexpectedly gave Alfred Grithe the ownership of one of Lord Edgware's houses and of a large amount of money. He confessed that he refused to do it before only to make sure Grithe was not a fortune-hunter.

Brian Martin, after losing two actors from the cast of _Mona Lisa's Enigmatic Smile_, stopped the productions and angrily left to the US. Jenny Driver went with him – "not to let some actress catch him", as the yellow press told us.

When the Second World War broke out, both Lord Ronald Edgware and Mr. Alfred Grithe went to fight. Alfred joined the Navy and spent the war in the Atlantic. He was captured four times, much to his wife and children's despair, but always managed to escape – by himself; only the last time he was freed by an American ship.

In 1944 the much more serious and grown-up Captain Ronald Marsh saved the life of the charming Marion Hayle, Lord Kidderminster's daughter, who worked for the Red Cross. She went with his division, and they got married in just two months, after the Battle of Monte Cassino.

After the war ended, Ronald Marsh, persuaded by his parents-in-law, started his political career. When I last heard of him, he was planning to become the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

All these facts I know from the letters of Miss Carroll. The good old woman had never forgotten Poirot and me, and sent long letters every two or three months. She described everything and everyone's life in details; the only person, dead or alive, who was never mentioned in her letters was "that dreadful woman" – Jane Wilkinson.


End file.
